Wandering the Atlantic Arc: A Tale of Surf, Mountains & Nameless Villages

Four of us, seventeen days, and one pop-top camper van packed with four surfboards, backpacks, and barely enough room to stretch. We drove more than 3,000 kilometres across France and Northern Spain through winding coastlines, hilltop towns, mountain passes, and more roundabouts than we could count. Brian and I took turns driving each day, and once I stopped hitting gutters and he remembered to stay on the right side of the road, the stress eased and we could really focus on the landscapes, the culture, and everything in between. We found waves where we could, explored quiet wine regions, hiked where the signal dropped, and parked up wherever felt right. Here’s an insight into our journey and what made it memorable.

Normandy to Brittany: Salt Air & Cobblestones

The trip began with a train ride out to the Indie Campers depot – ‘Paris’, though that term felt generous. With the use of our trustworthy CityMapper, we followed directions that took us through a muddy, overgrown farm, only to find out later we were the second ever customers to arrive that way. Our relationship with Indie Campers was off to a tumultuous start, and we hadn’t even hit the road yet.

Not long after picking up the van and driving a couple of hours north to Beauvais, we realised the auxiliary battery wasn’t working – meaning no fridge, lights, or charging ports. After a tiring day of navigating foreign roads for the first time, this discovery was a low blow. We drove all the way back to Paris the next morning and negotiated a replacement van. It wasn’t the smoothest start, but morale was restored and we hit the road (again) with the attitude that things could only improve from there.

Our first stop was Honfleur, a small, historic port town that felt like something out of a storybook. Cobbled streets, pastel houses lining the harbour, and lively markets made it a great first taste of coastal France. We wandered through the town, browsing local delicacies, fruit and souvenirs, before escaping the rain to treat ourselves to a croissant and coffee in La Petite Chine, a small, quaint cafe.

From there, we cruised into the Brittany region, stopping by Saint-Malo. A town renowned for it’s corsairs (state-sanctioned pirates) in the past. We took it slow, exploring the history of this walled city which included an old ship wreck from the 16th century, a stunning cathedral, and views of the English Channel. Although these quieter harbour towns were beautiful, we were longing to travel South towards France’s acclaimed surf towns.

Soon we found ourselves at Penmarch where we watched the Roland Garros final over pizza and beers. We checked into a paid campsite for the night; quite the treat when you’re without warm showers and WiFi for days at a time. Naturally, we arose slowly, enjoying these comforts before driving around the corner to La Torche, the local surf point.

On the way towards the point we found our first surf store. Eagerly yet naively, we charged in and bought the most suitable surfboards we could find. Despite my attempts to barter in French, we paid between €200-250 for these boards, later learning that patience would’ve saved us money if we had waited longer. I bought myself a 5’10 thruster from local shaper, Plume d’Avion, Jake and Brian found similar shapes, and Belle bought an Ocean & Earth foamie. I’d brought my well-worn but trusted Project Blank wetsuit from home, however, Jake and Brian bought what they could. Jake found himself a 4mm hooded Billabong, and Brian, a Billabong long john. Not exactly ideal by any stretch.

La Torche was our first proper European surf of the trip with icy 1–2ft peaks with small crowds. We paddled out in our aged wetsuits, bracing against the cold Atlantic for over an hour, but psyched nonetheless.

Tips:

• Don’t miss La Torche for small, uncrowded beach breaks and a relaxed surf scene.
• I could not recommend the park4night app anymore! This was a lifesaver for locating free campsites and amenities.
• This should be a no-brainer, but double-check that everything works as advertised on your camper van.

The South-West Surf Coast: Hossegor & Beyond

After waking up on the beach in La Torche and watching a spear fisher bring in some sizeable catches, we drove over four hours to Les Conches. The surf was small, but Belle had bought a second-hand wetsuit that day, so we jumped in for the obligatory surf test. It felt like such a novelty to paddle out at 8pm under bright skies, with the beach still buzzing with people. Up until now, we’d been keeping our food tucked under the van overnight due to fridge issues, with temperatures getting as low as 5°. But with temperature rising, we knew the risk-reward was getting a little unreasonable.

After a scenic drive through the countryside, we veered inland toward long-awaited wine country. Near Bordeaux, at Saint-Emilion, we pulled into a small Belgian-owned winery, Château Tour Baladoz, for a tasting. We didn’t know what to expect as Brian had found this tour for a budget-friendly €18 each, however, the experience certainly exceeded the cost. Although our wine knowledge was far inferior to the lovely Dutch couple on our tour, we enjoyed a small, intimate experience testing red wines from vintages as old as 2009 and touring the winery. After buying two red bottles to split between ourselves for €24, we headed on to our camp for the night at Libourne.

Next was Hossegor. The most highly-anticipated destination on our van journey, often described as the surf capital of Europe. We stayed at a cheap campsite in the shade of pine trees, located near La Sud and Les Estagnots. It had everything a backpacker needs; a toilet (which would sometimes run an intense cleaning cycle which would soak you), a tap (where we could wash ourselves in lieu of an actual shower), and a supermarket within short driving distance. This last point was especially important, as this was our usual fine dining destination.

Fortunately, we lucked into a run of overhead waves with a rare summer swell surge. The first morning we arose early, as if we were in Australia, and raced to Les Estagnots. Although there was no one out, we quickly got our wetsuits on and paddled out. The waves were overhead but a little tricky with the wind and swell direction. I was fortunate enough to luck into some fun ones, however, the experience varied for all of us, with Jake fighting a rip for 45 minutes. A great lesson in Hossegor’s currents. We later came to realise that this spot wasn’t as clean as La Sud as it faces a slightly different direction.

Along with this morning surf, another standout session came that afternoon at La Sud. Once again, a little under-gunned, we paddled out to find an overhead peak with a freight train left and right. Despite having jelly arms, we couldn’t resist these out-of-season waves. However, this swell also brought a gnarly shorey, proving trickier than usual when paddling in under fatigued decision making. It wasn’t uncommon to see surfers carrying broken boards up the beach during this swell.

Our Hossegor routine settled in; morning surf, breakfast in town, peruse the many surf outlets or relax with a coffee at the beach, afternoon surf, and then dinner. We also enjoyed the famous nightlife, watching the WSL Trestles final at Coolin, drinking at Rock Food, and chanting French anthems at Dick’s Sand Bar. Fortunately, all the popular nightlife spots are right near each other. Although, don’t make the same mistake as us; ensure you pre-order a taxi to avoid the 3km walk home in pouring rain. Or hope that a local is friendly enough to shout you a lift home. Hossegor became our base, and the spot where we hit our stride in the van.

Tips:

• Stay close to La Sud for semi-sheltered waves, good food, and walkability.
• There are plenty of second-hand surfboard stores in Hossegor offering extremely competitive prices.
• Ensure you pre-order a taxi in Hossegor before the night begins. There are no Ubers or other ride sharing services available.

Into the Mountains: Pyrenees & Pilgrims

Needing a break from salt and sun, we briefly perused Biarritz before heading for the Pyrenees. We stopped in Lourdes, the French gateway to the Pyrenees and a world-renown Catholic pilgrimage site, to visit Belle and Brian’s family friend, Elliot, who is currently living there. The drive into town was surreal as we hugged the base of the mountains whilst winding through old cobbled streets. Elliot graciously let all of us stay inside his small flat, an act we were incredibly grateful for as we hadn’t had a ‘proper’ shower in over a week. He also gave us some local insights, showing us all his favourite cheap eats around town including a kebab store and cafe; decisions that are top-of-mind for budget backpackers.

The following morning we enjoyed a coffee and croissant with Elliot before beginning the ascent into the Pyrenees. To show our gratitude, we payed him back in the way that made most sense to us; a free six pack of local beer and breakfast on us. I was filled with anticipation as we were set to drive up the Col Du Tourmalet, a climb I’d become familiar with watching cyclists tackle it in the Tour De France. Although I was jealous of the many cyclists making their way up, I was quietly content to be behind the wheel and safe from the 30° heat outside. With the tour arriving in the coming weeks, the roads were littered with chalk supporting the likes of Pogacar, Vingegaard, and Van Aert. After dodging oncoming cars and cyclists, we reached the summit at over 2100m.

We had identified a trail we were eager to hike, however, without AllTrails or a similar guide, we quickly found ourselves making our own path. Instead of reaching the towering Pic du midi, it turns out we climbed Courade Verde, a route leading us to a ridge above Lac d’Oncet, a picturesque blue lake. Going off the beaten path, we climbed steep ascents and descents, trying our best to follow thin sheep trails. Much to our surprise we also had to navigate slippery snow crossings, despite the summer heat. The view of the mountains was breathtaking, sprinkled with faint lines of sheep traversing the steep terrain.

That evening, we descended back into Lourdes, enjoying a dip in a fresh river before settling in a quiet local car park for the night. Instead of opting for the same route into the Pyrenees the next morning, we decided to approach from the South with hopes to camp near the France-Spain border. Opting for another spot that the tour was visiting, we drove up the Col Du Pourtalet, sitting at almost 1,800m. The drive up the mountains was once again beautiful with thick greenery, quite reminiscent of New Zealand’s west coast. 

The novelty of this location was its position on the France–Spain border, which meant I could order food in French while Belle did the same in Spanish. Since we were visiting this ski region in summer, restaurants were few and far between, so we settled for a supermarket feed at our campsite in the Pourtalet Pass. The altitude made for a cold night, but the sound of cow bells eased us into sleep; a melody that became synonymous with our time in the Pyrenees.

Tips:

• Ensure you pack extra food when passing through sleepy ski towns during the summer.
• Use AllTrails to find, download and accurately follow hiking maps.
• Ski resort car parks (like Pourtalet) are often perfect for overnight camping outside the season.

Basque Country: Reggae Bars & Flat Tyres

Refreshed and recharged, we made a beeline back to the coast, this time heading south into Basque Country. After crossing the border, we settled for breakfast in a small Spanish town. I quickly learnt that my Spanish needed a lot of practice and that the breakfast here was very different to what I’d grown accustomed to in France. Although, with time, we all really grew to love tortilla de patatas, a classic Spanish omelette that was available practically everywhere. Travelling along the edge of Pamplona, a destination we’d become acquainted with shortly, we reached San-Sebastian. Although I’ve never visited Rio de Janeiro, this destination seemed very reminiscent with its lively beach culture and towering cliffs. 

With Jake and I flying home in the coming days, we were very eager to try and sell our boards. A chat with staff at the local Pukas store led me to El Bunkar, a tucked-away surf shop. The friendly owner, Willy, was out for a surf but more than willing to arrange a meet up later via WhatsApp. After analysing the boards, Willy graciously offered to buy all four of our boards, and even offered some local advice for where we could find the best waves. A small act in his day-to-day, but very meaningful for us.

Feeling elated with extra cash in hand, we pushed on to Orio, a quieter beach town with one of the best discoveries of the trip, Mola Mola bar. This brought live reggae, cold beers, and an introduction to kalimotxos. This felt like the perfect send-off for our van journey.

Then, of course, trouble in paradise. On our second last day we got a flat tyre driving through the narrow ‘roads’ and misty mountains above Elgoibar with no spare. Fortunately, we could roll down into town, however, the irony was that we were surrounded by closed auto stores on a weekend. We promptly contacted Indie Campers for assistance, however, lost all faith in their ability to help after being stranded for 24 hours. As a result, we caught a train to Bilbao and left the keys with the depot team, along with a Google Maps pin for the van’s location. Much to our surprise, the young Spanish workers found this hilarious rather than annnoying and made us an espresso for our troubles. Despite the bittersweet ending, our experiences in the van taught us to adapt and embrace the unpredictable nature of van travel.

Tips:

• Sell and buy boards at El Bunkar in San Sebastián – they offer fair prices and superb local surf knowledge.
• Orio is low-key, beautiful, and has a small surf break worth checking.
• Poor man pays twice. Be careful with the cheaper camper van hire companies such as Indie Campers.

Final Thoughts

This wasn’t a surf trip – at least not in the clean, magazine-cover kind of way. We knew summer wouldn’t deliver pumping swell, but we were still chasing a version of it. Sure, there were waves; some super fun, some barely surfable, but they were only part of the story.

The road took us inland more than we expected – to hikes, quiet villages, and cafés where we were usually the only outsiders. Driving through these regions gave us a better sense of the culture, the landscapes, and the pace of everyday life in places we’d never heard of until we arrived.

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